


Swell Asclepias

by Nyanoka



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Breast Play, Breastfeeding, Established Relationship, Fluff, Lactation, Large Breasts, M/M, Mild Painplay, Nipple Play, Panties, Panties Kink, Scissoring, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, mild dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanoka/pseuds/Nyanoka
Summary: A comparison of chest sizes ends up going in a different direction than what they had originally planned.
Relationships: Masaru | Victor/Nezu | Piers
Kudos: 5





	Swell Asclepias

**Author's Note:**

> I think the most bewildering thing in this story is that everyone is actually an adult considering my normal preferences and fare when it comes to fiction.
> 
> I am in such a soft Piers/Victor mood...I'm always in a Piers/Victor mood, but this month is a soft one...I’m also in time for White Day too...

“Don’t you ever get tired of those milk jugs? Probably gets heavy, right?”

A snort comes, more amused than annoyed. “Don’t _you_ ”—Victor accentuates the word, pink lips forming briefly into an _o_ —“get tired of being flat? I’m surprised that the wind doesn’t blow you over every time we open a window.”

Fingers push underneath the cups of his bra, fingertips prodding gently at the skin, before Piers feels a firm squeeze, pressure drawing a soft sigh. With each movement, the bed creaks underneath them.

Palms massaging at Piers’s breasts, Victor continues, “Really, do you even need a bra?” Victor squeezes again, taking a particular care to play with Piers’s nipples, sensitive nubs pulled upon by his nails. “It’s not like you have anything here.” A hand slides up to the strap, manicured nails pulling at the lace strap and popping it back into place with a _snap_ , loose hair catching underneath the elastic. “So bony.”

Victor leans forward, breasts pressing against Piers’s chest. With each movement, milk drips from Victor’s tits, liquid sloshing audibly and staining the front of his nightwear. Piers shudders as he feels the fabric brush against his skin, silk soaked and warm milk dripping from his perked nipples and down his chest and stomach.

He wants to tear it off, babydoll ruined and sheer silk stretched and torn in-between his fingers, and to fuck him—swollen clit rutting against his—but Victor squeezes his breasts again before he can, motion rougher than before. Victor’s nails dig into the pale flesh, just light enough to avoid breaking the skin.

“But still”—other hand still playing with his tits and pulling them out of his bra, Victor’s fingers trail downward, slipping into Piers’s panties—“it fits you. It’s cute how small you are, especially your waistline.” Fingers push into his pussy to tug on his clit before swiftly withdrawing to a displeased groan, waistband snapping against skin. His hand moves to his hip, caressing at the jutting bone. “I could probably wrap my hand around it!”

Flushing, Piers doesn’t reply, breath uneven. Instead, he only leans forward, teeth soon clamping down on Victor’s neck and drawing a gasp, body trembling underneath. His hands move to the small of Victor’s back, fingers idly slipping into and playing with the waistband of his panties. Unlike his own, they’re a soft shade of pastel pink, front already soaked and darkening.

Tongue still licking at the flesh and sucking, Piers feels Victor thrust forward, crotch grinding against his and boobs bouncing with every movement, nipples grazing against the lace of his bra as milk seeps through the thin silk, warm and messy.

A soft moan leaves Victor’s lips before he thrusts once more, silk sliding against lace. It isn’t enough, fabric rubbing against his clit and wet folds in a way that teases rather than satisfies.

He wants more contact, something more than playful teasing, but before he can move, nails pinch at his nipples, tugging roughly and motion drawing a strangled gasp from him, teeth inadvertently clamping down harder.

“N-not yet.” Victor shivers, chest brushing against his with each breath. “D-don’t be so impatient.”

Much like before, Piers doesn’t reply, fingers only sliding to the front of Victor’s panties, fingertips soon prodding at his dripping cunt and at the neatly shaved skin. Despite his earlier words, Victor doesn’t stop him, trembling as he is. Victor only thrusts downward in an attempt to force his fingers deeper, panting and equally as eager as himself. With each thrust, girlcum drips onto his fingers, soaking his palm and the fabric.

Victor thrusts downward once more, moans only increasing as Piers’s fingers curl, fingertips rubbing against his G-spot. His palm rubs against Victor’s clit, calloused skin grinding against the wet folds of his clenching pussy.

Teeth grazing at the skin, Piers trails his tongue downward, peppering the sweating flesh with brief kisses, every kiss drawing a shiver and a low groan, body soon sliding against his, awkward and eager for more contact and friction. A soft whine leaves Victor as Piers’s fingers withdraw from his pussy with a wet _pop_ , digits briefly tugging at his clit before sliding upward to play at his waistband, elastic popping lightly against sweaty skin and sound—sensation—eliciting another noise from Victor.

More clumsy than anything resembling purposeful, Victor ruts against him, hand groping at his boobs and grip tightening on his hip—five purpling crescents forming on pale flesh.

When his mouth wraps around a nipple, tongue licking at the dark nub through the thin fabric, Victor jerks, nails digging into his hip and pulling him forward, pussy grinding against his in rough strokes.

It isn’t sensual—it’s too rough for that, desperate yet not quite enough, silk sliding against lace rather than skin against skin—but Piers finds himself moaning anyway, noise only increasing when he feels Victor’s leg drape over his in an attempt to deepen his thrusts.

Really, he almost wishes that one of them had a cock or at the very least, a dildo strapped on tonight. Perhaps one of the girthier and more exotic ones as well—length decorated with spines and leading to a large knot and head squirting in a false orgasm.

They have plenty of variety in their collection after all—toys ranging from the more mundane to the more abnormal, acquired tastes—and moreover, he wants to be fucked, deep and hard and rough, and by Victor’s movements, frantic as they are, he’s fairly certain that Victor does as well.

Hand moving to lift the fabric, his lips soon engulf Victor’s nipple, sucking as his tongue swirling around the skin and the dark areola, every motion drawing another moan, body shuddering as Victor thrusts again. With each jerk, a bit of milk spills into Piers’s mouth, mild and sweet and eagerly swallowed.

Messy and wet—he feels Victor’s breast press against the side of cheek, milk dripping onto his shoulder and chest with each bounce, noise and volume only increasing as his hand moves to grope at the underside of his breast, fingers massaging the swollen, heavy flesh.

Another thrust comes before Piers feels a hand push against his chest, urging him onto his back and motion complied with, Victor soon following, pussy still grinding against his and milk leaking onto the bed and into his mouth, fluid greedily lapped up and swallowed.

Hand moving upward from Victor’s cunt, fingers trailing along the wet flesh, Piers gropes at Victor’s tits, squeezing roughly at the tender, swollen flesh as another gush of milk splatters on his face and a moan comes, body trembling on top of his.

Limbs tangled as they are, it isn’t an especially comfortable position, more awkward than anything else with how Victor’s leg drapes over his, but Piers doesn’t mind, too eager for contact, mouth still sucking upon Victor’s nipple and fingers caressing at the flesh, nails pulling upon Victor’s other tit and circling around the dark areola.

A knee moves to grind against his dripping pussy, and Piers jerks in an attempt to garner more friction.

Though, it isn’t quite enough. Much like before, he wants more, something larger to fuck himself upon and something less teasing—more direct and more violent in desire.

Thus, he finds his breath catching when he feels Victor’s fingers slide into his panties again, fabric hastily tugged down, just enough to reveal his cunt, hole dripping and surrounded by curling, dark pubic hair.

When Victor ruts against his cunt again, wet silk rubbing teasingly against his clit and folds, Piers finds himself thrusting back, noisy and wet, as a hand moves to his hair, fingers grabbing at the strands and jerking him forward in an attempt to force him closer.

Awkward and lacking in finesse yet entirely frenzied, especially when he feels Victor pull aside the fabric of his panties, bare, swollen clit soon rubbing and rutting against his and drawing noises from them both. Piers’s hands move to grip at Victor’s hips, nails digging into soft flesh.

Feeling another harsh tug on his hair, Piers separates from Victor’s still leaking nipple, lips soon drawn into a messy kiss, teeth clacking against one another and tongue thrusting into his mouth and toward the throat. With each movement, he feels Victor’s tits slide against his chest, warm milk spurting in small streams and staining both their flesh and the bedsheets beneath them.

With a particularly rough thrust, Victor grinds his clit against Piers’s, motion drawing loud, raspy moan.

It isn’t quite the same as a cock—not quite large or filling enough for his tastes tonight—but Piers finds himself cumming anyhow, thighs quivering as his orgasm spills onto their thighs, lace and silk equally ruined.

Though, despite his own orgasm, neither of them still their thrusts, clits still grinding against one another.

Even when Victor cums, noisy and wet, they don’t stop, still pressed and rubbing against one another—kisses sloppy and wet and desperately eager.

It is only when their kiss finishes, lips separating wetly, that they still, chests heaving because of exertion and room silent outside of their breathing, frenzy ebbing.

After a few moments, Victor breaks the silence.

“Are my boobs really that big?” Victor shifts, chest pressing against his. “Too unwieldy? Or maybe too dark?”

Oh.

He hadn’t expected that, a request for a few more rounds perhaps—Victor, much like himself, has always been frisky—but not the uncertainty.

Piers shakes his head. “No, they’re fine.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss against his breast, tongue briefly flicking out to lick at nipple, before withdrawing. “I like them. I just thought we wanted to try dirty talk tonight.”

“Are you sure though? Not too big are they? You don’t have to lie or anything. Just…” Victor trails off, shifting slightly.

Shaking his head again, Piers replies, “No really. I do. They’re cute—fits you.”

 _Cute_ isn’t the first word that most people would use to describe their partner’s boobs. _Cute_ is a word to describe a pet or some other sort of small animal, not boobs. _Sexy_ or _hot_ maybe, but not _cute_.

Especially not ones of Victor’s size, sizable bust matched with a thin hourglass figure.

At the very least, he knows Raihan would tease him about it if he were to find out—the “friend tax” as it were—but it is how he feels about the matter.

“I like the size of them, the feelin’ of them”—his hands gently squeeze Victor’s chest, fingers taking particular care to caress the nipples, fingertips circling the areola—“everythin’.”

Rather embarrassing—extremely embarrassing actually—and perhaps overly sentimental of him, but he blames it on the afterglow. He’s always been chattier after sex, _mushy and a bit disgusting_ as Raihan would say.

Overly sincere as it were.

At the very least, his words bring a deeper flush to Victor’s cheeks and another pause.

Cute.

“Are you really sure though? I don’t mind if you tell me.” By the the slight tightness of Victor’s expression, pensive, he does. “Really, be honest.”

“I am. Promise.” Leaning forward again, Piers presses another soft kiss against Victor’s chest. “They’re cute. Really.”

Victor doesn’t reply at first, cheeks still flushed.

“If you’re sure,” he finally says after a pause. Victor shifts, arms moving to draw him closer in an embrace. “Though…” He shifts again. “Did anything I say bother you?”

Piers snorts, shaking his head. “Nah. Appreciate the concern though.”

It isn’t a lie. He knows what he looks like, and Raihan calls him a _bony bitch_ enough times, sometimes in good humor and other times during argument. In return, he calls Raihan an _oversized manwhore_. That's often how their friendship goes and how they prefer it.

At Victor’s expression, Piers continues, “Really. I don’t mind.” He shifts again. “Though, do you want to do anythin’ else tonight? We can just cuddle if you’re not in the mood. Maybe turn on the TV? I can give you a massage too if you want.”

A bit of a digression perhaps, but he knows how Victor can be, prone to thought loops and bouts of anxiety.

At Victor’s nod, Piers shifts, hand reaching over to the nightstand to grab the remote.

Though, he isn’t quite sated yet, still agitated and wanting, but it isn’t something that he minds all too much.

He could always take care of it later by himself.

Piers shifts, nestling closer to Victor as his arm drapes over his waist, fingers stroking at his lower back and occasionally playing with the pink waistband of his panties.

“This fine?” Piers asks as he turns the TV on. Animal documentaries aren’t exactly the most erotic of shows for obvious reasons or his first choice in post-coital entertainment, but he doesn’t mind, not when Victor nods, soft _mm-hmm_ soon leaving his lips.

He likes Victor too much to mind after all.

Instead, he only places the remote back on the nightstand, plastic settling with a _thump_ on the wood.

He could take care of himself later.

For now, he wants to take care of Victor.

Anxieties and all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the mood for soft Piers/Victor this month tbh, and one of my favorite scenarios for trans!Victor is that he can get a bit insecure about his chest size and his nips...I just think it'd be cute if Piers would console him on that and just be disgustingly sincere...I want them to be disgustingly cute together...
> 
> But I like to headcanon that trans!Piers is exactly the same as the canon version except he has to get pads once a month, and most people can't even tell that he's trans even without surgery because of how he looks and just the naturally low voice combined with the smoking...while Victor, if he ever grows up, ends up with big breasts and an hourglass figure...a complete "bombshell" as the slang goes...not very plain-looking anymore...
> 
> I like to think Piers is thirty-one here roughly while Victor is eighteen...


End file.
